In 'The Darker Side of Playland', the endearing cuteness of beloved toys and cartoon characters turns menacing and monstrous. Much of the work has the quality of childhood nightmares. In those dreams, long before any adult understanding of the specific pains and evils that live holds, the familiar and comforting objects and images of a child's world are rent with something untoward. For children, not understanding what really to be afraid of, these dreams portend some pain and disturbance lurking into the landscape.
Perhaps nothing in the exhibition exemplifies this better than Gottfried Helnwein's 'Mickey'. His portrait of Disney's favotite mouse occupies an entire wall of the gallery; rendered from an oblique angle, his jaunty, ingenuous visage looks somehow sneaky and suspicious. His broad smile, encasing a row of gleaming teeth, seems more a snarl or leer. This is Mickey as Mr. Hyde, his hidden other self now disturbingly revealed.
Helnwein's Mickey is painted in shades of gray, as if pictured on an old black-and-white TV set. We are meant to be transported to the flickering edges of our own childhood memories in a time imaginably more blameless, crime-less and guiltless.
But Mickey's terrifying demeanor hints of things to come. ...

Helnwein, the controversial Austrian artist whose works is currently on show at the Robert Sandelson gallery in London, has always been a difficult personality to pin down.
He chose to exhibit all three "Epiphany" paintings alongside a series of photographs of 19th century stillborn foetuses in an exhibition entitled "Apokalypse". Hung together in a Dominican church in Weinstadt in Austria, the final effect was one of haunting beauty, each child framed magnificently within the high vaulted ceiling of the church. The juxtaposition of these serene yet poignant images of "beings that never were" placed next to paintings that recalled the ideological terrors of the past, created a synthesis of values as politically dynamic as they were aesthetically entrancing. Yet throughout his career as an artist Helnwein has never ceased to use his work as a way to question his immediate surroundings. ...

Helnwein, der Meister des Grauens auf den zweiten Blick, zeigt bei einer Personale in Krems verstörend intensive Grossformate. Estmals wieder seit fast zehn Jahren.
Es mag paradox scheinen: Aber Helnweins historisches Verdienst liegt hinter der - meist irrwitzig attraktiven - Oberfläche seiner Bilder:
Der zweite, dritte Blick offenbart dem Betrachter das psychologische.
Großtalent Helnwein, das Stimmungen und Zustände detailgenau erkennt und durchleuchtet.
Das war in Frühen Motiven wie "Leid macht stark" oder "Die Tochter des Schlurfs" erkennbar und ist auch hier nicht anders. Man nehme das oben abgebildete Motiv als Beispiel.
Wolfgang Bauer sagt: "Helnwein hält sich gerne an diversen Grenzen auf. Wer hier durch will, wird von ihm genau geprüft. Er ist einer der magischen Zöllner der Kunst."
Die Zollformalitäten in Krems seien somit ausdrücklich empfohlen. ...

Une peinture photoréaliste demande un mois de travail, voire une année. Parfois, la toile n’est que la copie d’une photo. Jason Brooks, un Britannique de 31 ans, s’est récemment vu décerner pour l’une de ses œuvres l’un des prix artistiques les plus convoités de Grande-Bretagne. Par ailleurs, Londres accueille en ce moment une rétrospective consacrée à l’Américain Chuck Close. Il est considéré comme l’un des fondateurs du photoréalisme, au même titre que Gottfried Helnwein qui expose actuellement dans une église gothique à Krems en Autriche. Serait-ce le come-back du photoréalisme ? Comment se fait-il que cette technique, qui a connu son âge d’or dans les années 70, fascine aujourd’hui les jeunes artistes ? Pourquoi ces tableaux interpellent-ils davantage le spectateur que les clichés d’origine ? METROPOLIS a rencontré Gottfried Helnwein et Jason Brooks à Londres et s’est entretenu avec eux de leurs motivations, des techniques employées et de l’avenir de ce mouvement. ...

Any artist who sites Donald Duck and Jesus Christ as the most important influences in their art must be worth taking a look at.
In the row of pristine gallery fronts in London's Cork street, you cannot miss Gottfried Helnwein's show; it's the one with the gigantic Mickey Mouse staring out at you.
The Robert Sandelson Gallery has given us a stunning show of the infamous, Austrian born artist's recent work. Helnwein is on a mission to find the answers to questions that no-one in Austria would give him; such as why the post-war republic portrayed itself as a victim rather than as one of the first main perpetrators of Nazism. ...

Austrian artist Gottfired Helnwein's powerful and haunting paintings provide a disturbing commentary on Nazism and the Holocaust, regularly provoking outraged reactions from right-wingers in his native land and in Germany. "I was amazed how much pictures could reach into the hearts and minds of people - and how much they would talk to me about it," he told the JC. "For me, art is like a dialogue. My art is not giving answers, it is asking questions." ...

A year or so back, an exhibition called Sensations caused a few upsets, first in London and then in New York. Central to the reaction was a large-scale portrait of a child-killer assembled from, if I remember correctly, the palm prints of children. So far, so bland. The shock element in art has been much talked about in the last five years but art that actually shocks has been thin on the ground during the same period.
Step forward then, Gottfried Helnwein.
By and large, if art is going to shock, it better have something shocking to say,and it's clear that Helnwein has found that. ...

...

These paintings are about America, I guess from a very European point of view.
They're based on photographs, mainly newspaper photographs, of the Fifties and Sixties from archives in New York and L.A. Most people in these pictures are real people, caught in some long forgotten, petty events.
I rearranged the scenes, introduced new characters, and created new relationships and contexts. And then I painted them in black and blue.
That's how I remember America back then in the early Fifties in Vienna, where I was born. The big war had ended a few years ago, but the city still seemed undecided as to whether this was the end of the world or if life should go on.
It was a strange, sad and surreal world. The streets were empty, the houses dark - many of them in ruins from the bombings.
The few people I saw seemed ugly, clumsy, and depressed.
I never saw anybody laughing and I never heard anybody sing. It was a world without sound and colour. Everything moved in slow motion, like slime. We had no phones, no television, no cars, no music, no pictures, except the paintings of tortured people in the Roman Catholic church which made a deep impression on me, haunting me in the sleepless nights of my childhood limbo.
And then, without any warning, suddenly there was America.
When I saw the first picture of Elvis I was in a state of shock, because I couldn't believe that a human being could be so beautiful.
That was the beginning of the never-ending flood of American images that suddenly came over us and started to penetrate and transform everything. ...

But stand all this beside an Antony Gormley cage figure (White Cube) or the giant paintings of stillborn babies by Gottfried Helnwein, an artist revered in Germany and Austria (Robert Sandelson). ...